


Sanctuary

by Thymesis



Series: Star Wars Rare Pairs Collection (NC-17) [11]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Endor, Ewoks, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Ghosts, M/M, Mission Fic, POV Third Person, Rare Pairing, Trees, Wacky Force Wizardry Alert, Worldbuilding, Xenobotany, pre-TPM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-07 06:43:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12227670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymesis/pseuds/Thymesis
Summary: Jedi Master Dooku has gone missing. Qui-Gon Jinn, Dooku’s former apprentice and now a Jedi Master in his own right, is sent to seek him out at his last known location: the forest moon of Endor.What Qui-Gon is about to discover there, however, defies all expectation, and it is going to change…everything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluedragoninamber](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedragoninamber/gifts).



> Dooku, Qui-Gon, and yes, you guessed it—Ewoks. C’mon, you know you want it! X-D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A closed session of Senate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Note: The rating of this story (currently PG-13) may change in later chapters.

“The Speaker recognizes the honorable Gla Reo of the Intergalactic Indigenes Fund for a maximum of three minutes.”

A slim, crimson-skinned Twi’lek female wearing a simple but elegant black dress, her lekku twisted together into a single, long coil, maneuvered a guest pod towards the center of the Senate rotunda. “Honorable Speaker, Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, Gentlebeings of the Senate,” she began, her calm, confident, Ryloth-accented Basic both amplified and, as necessary, translated by the chamber’s advanced audiovisual technology, “I come before you today to plead on behalf of the indigenes of the forest moon of Endor. Ten standard months ago, Chancellor Valorum signed an executive order authorizing the immediate removal of settlers, commercial logging operations, and all other non-essential government personnel from the forest moon—”

“Master, where is Endor?” Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn’s young apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi whispered.

“Hush,” Qui-Gon admonished him, brow furrowed. He had a very good reason for wanting to hear what this Gla Reo had to say.

Obi-Wan shrugged and returned his attention to the proceedings in far below. In his enthusiasm—this was his first time viewing a closed session of Senate—he was bent over the balcony, feet in the air, small body precariously dangling more than halfway out of the Jedi Order’s courtesy viewing pod altogether. Had Obi-Wan been a normal youngling, Qui-Gon would have been concerned for his safety. Obi-Wan was not a normal youngling, however: His new red-gold Padawan braid attested to that.

“—and the Intergalactic Indigenes Fund applauds this brave decision, but we are dismayed to report that no discernible progress has been made,” Gla Reo continued. “In fact, local sources on the surface suggest that logging activities have, if anything, ramped up in recent weeks and are inflicting irreparable harm to the moon’s indigenous ecosystem. I would therefore implore the Senate to see to it that the rule of law of this Galactic Republic is enforced on the forest moon of Endor. Thank you for your time.”

Gla Reo’s pod retreated; she hadn’t quite utilized the full three minutes allocated to her. By Senatorial standards, Qui-Gon reflected, the session was progressing at hyperspeed. Muffled chattering, the overall sentiment of which could not be discerned, echoed throughout the cavernous chamber.

Mas Amedda pounded his Speaker’s staff on the floor of the Chancellor’s podium. “Order!” he commanded. The noise gradually ceased. He cleared his throat with a distinctive Chagrian rumble and proceeded to call the next witness to the floor. “The Speaker recognizes the honorable Aspern Hale from the Coruscanti headquarters of Forestry Stewardship Council for a maximum of three minutes.”

A thickset Human male of vigorous middle age in a second guest pod moved into the center of the rotunda. “My thanks, Speaker Amedda. Chancellor Valorum. Esteemed Senators. Many of you know me already in a personal capacity, but today, _today_ ,” his deep voice boomed at a nearly ear-splitting volume produced, Qui-Gon presumed, by some sort of unauthorized but informally tolerated customization to the pod, “I come before you to decry the injustices perpetrated upon the hardworking beings who are being unilaterally uprooted from their beloved homes on the recommendation of the so-called Senatorial Committee on Galactic Parks and Monuments—of which not a _single member_ has ever even _visited_ the forest moon! We of the Forestry Stewardship Council continue to dispute, in the strongest of terms, this Committee’s conclusions, which are based upon studies undertaken by researchers openly, and vociferously, opposed to the logging industry—”

“Master, why are they called the ‘Forestry Stewardship Council’ when they’re actually in the business of cutting down trees?” Obi-Wan asked, puzzled. Ah, this was a question worth exploring.

“Why does anyone misrepresent the truth of his nature?” Qui-Gon countered.

“Because…” Obi-Wan paused to consider, his puzzled expression morphing into a troubled one. “Because he has something bad he wants to hide?” he ventured at last.

“Indeed. Your insight serves you well, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said sadly. Politics. How he loathed politics and politicians and their unending jockeying for more power and position! But he loathed the bluster of those like Aspern Hale, who cared only about the maximization of shareholder profit and would tell any lie, no matter how blatant, as a means to that end, far, far,  _far_ more. He suppressed a rueful sigh and returned his attention to Hale’s speech, which sounded like it was, thankfully, coming to a close.

“—remain committed to providing good jobs for hardworking Republic citizens and making an important contribution to the Republic’s intergalactic economy. On behalf of the Endor moon’s settlers, I exhort this august body to overrule an unjust executive order and secure their futures! I, and their children, and their children’s children, will be eternally grateful.” Hale bowed deeply four times, once in each of the cardinal directions, before removing himself and his pod.

“Master—” Obi-Wan began with what was undoubtedly going to be yet another question.

“Obi-Wan, doesn’t your flight practicum commence tomorrow?” Qui-Gon interrupted.

“Err, yes, but—”

“Flying, particularly at speeds requiring a Force-enhanced reaction time, is both difficult and potentially dangerous. It’s late. I want you to return to the Temple and get a good night’s sleep so that you will be at your best tomorrow.”

“But _Master_ …” Obi-Wan pleaded, his gaze turning back longingly toward the drama still unfolding before the Chancellor’s podium.

“No buts, apprentice. Run along.” Qui-Gon made a little shooing gesture.

“Yes, Master.” Then Obi-Wan heaved a grudging sigh big enough for the both of them, straightened his tunics, bowed in the most proper manner possible, and obeyed.

Qui-Gon watched him go, the frown he’d been holding back for Obi-Wan’s sake now contorting his lips into a grimace of thorough dismay. His eyes swept the thousands of occupied Senatorial pods. The conversations between various planetary sectors and interest groups appeared to be growing increasingly fractious. Not a good sign.

“Concerned, are you, for your former Master?”

Although neither he nor Obi-Wan had noticed the presence of another previously, Qui-Gon was not surprised in the least to see Grand Master Yoda seated unobtrusively in the back of the Order’s pod.

“Yes, Master,” Qui-Gon admitted readily. “He has not been in contact with me for over seven standard months.” This was, Qui-Gon decided not to mention, unusual in the extreme. And distressing.

“Order! Order! Order!” Mas Amedda was shouting. The two Jedi ignored him.

“Assigned, Dooku was, to the forest moon of Endor to assist in the orderly, peaceful removal of the settlers, hmm?” Yoda mused, stroking his chin with clawed fingers. “If difficulty he has encountered, reinforcement we should send.” Yoda paused significantly before continuing. “Found a berth for you, Qui-Gon, we have, on a research vessel en route to Endor tonight.”

Qui-Gon had nothing further to add beyond a grateful nod of acknowledgement.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A xenobotanist gives Qui-Gon an informal guided tour of the forest moon.

There hadn’t been sufficient time to return to the Temple. Qui-Gon had his lightsaber and the clothes on his back, however, and required nothing else. Besides, he didn’t know much about the forest moon of Endor beyond what he’d just heard declaimed in the Senate Building—best, he’d decided, to travel light and leave the balance to the will of the Force.

By the time he’d had arrived at Coruscant Central Spaceport, the research vessel that was to transport him to Endor was prepped for liftoff. The journey would be a single seven-hour hyperspace jump, and once he’d boarded, there was little to do other than to have a quick bite to eat and settle down into his berth to meditate and sleep.

He awoke from a peaceful slumber the next morning just as the vessel was reverting to realspace. From the nearest viewport, the forest moon looked like a shining, emerald globe hanging in the vast, black emptiness of space. Truly, it was a remarkable sight: The canopy of trees appeared to cover the entire surface from pole to pole, interrupted by neither geological formation nor sentient development.

Obi-Wan would have already been plastered to the transparisteel in excitement and asking a hundred questions, no doubt. But he was still a learner, and successful completion of the mandatory flight practicum took precedence over unexpected reconnaissance missions. Qui-Gon knew he’d be disappointed, though, and shot off a quick, apologetic holomessage to Coruscant just as the vessel began its descent into the moon’s gravity well.

Upon closer inspection, it became evident that the forest canopy was not, in fact, wholly unbroken. Here and there, patches of land were completely denuded by clearcut logging. Other disturbed areas had begun to regrow and were uniformly green again from above…but the distinctive, characteristic crowns of Endor’s magnificent evergreen trees were absent. Qui-Gon estimated that approximately ten percent of the virgin forest had been removed. At this rate, if unchecked, the moon would be treeless within fifteen years.

“What do you think, Master Jedi?” a light, feminine voice behind him asked.

“Beautiful…and troubling,” Qui-Gon admitted freely. He turned to face his interlocutor and bowed. “Professor Rosalind Pallas of the Finis Valorum Xenobotanical Institute, I presume?”

A short, middle-aged Human female outfitted in sensible woodland hiking gear smiled. “Please, Master Jedi, call me Ros.”

“Only if you agree to call me Qui-Gon,” he countered.

“Agreed.” Ros’s smile widened.

The research vessel hit the ground with an abrupt, jolting thump. Qui-Gon kept his balance, of course, but so, impressively, did Ros. The rumble of sublight engines died, and the main door unsealed with a soft hiss.

“Well, we’ve arrived. And now, Qui-Gon, we’d better get going; it’s still a six-kilometer hike to the settlers’ lodge,” Ros informed him.

***

The journey was proving less a hike through the wilderness than a pleasant woodland stroll, Qui-Gon decided, and better yet, he had a galaxy-renowned xenobotanist as his own personal tour guide and her encyclopedic knowledge of the forest moon’s indigenous wildlife at his disposal.

“Endorian evergreens are similar to Alderaanian evergreens, which, as you surely know, are farmed throughout the galaxy and have the widest range of commercial uses. The trees here, however, grow at less than one-fiftieth the rate of Alderaanian evergreen and therefore yield a much denser, harder wood that is equally, if not more, flexible. The heritage manufacturing industries love it,” Ros said as she led the way through the forest, Qui-Gon trailing dutifully behind.

“But the slower rate of growth means that the supply will be wholly exhausted in a few short years, and it makes farming the species in its native environment or offworld infeasible,” Qui-Gon supplied.

“That’s correct.” Ros did not seem particularly troubled by the prospect of the impending extinction of the Endorian evergreen. She didn’t even turn around to look at him. How odd. Qui-Gon would have expected a xenobiologist to be outraged.

“Does any of the indigenous wildlife here have any other potential commercial value?” he asked.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Ros replied, picking up what appeared to be a fallen seed pod bigger than Qui-Gon’s fist from the forest floor.

“Is the forest moon home to any uncontacted indigenous sentient lifeforms?”

“Nope, non-sentients only.” Ros discarded the seed pod over her shoulder and continued onward. “Well, unless you count the Ewoks, but the Republic doesn’t; they’re mere primitives. And I wouldn’t call them ‘uncontacted,’ ” Ros chuckled to herself, a private joke.

Qui-Gon was baffled. “Then why are the settlers being removed in the first place? What purpose does the conservation of this ecosystem serve the Republic?”

To his surprise, Ros bristled and this question and halted, whirling around to face Qui-Gon. Her expression was fierce. “Why does everything have to have a utilitarian purpose? Why can’t some things just _be_? I would have thought a Jedi would know better!”

Qui-Gon acknowledged the hit with a subtle obeisance. “Forgive me, Ros. I have become over-accustomed to economic justifications for legislative or executive action. Naturally, I assumed that your interest as a researcher would be the exploration of alternative commercial uses for Endorian products which would justify conservation of the moon’s indigenous wildlife.”

Ros’s expression softened. “That’s all right. It’s an understandable mistake. And you’re correct—I _am_ funded by the Senatorial Committee on Galactic Parks and Monuments to determine how quickly the Endor moon’s ecosystem should rejuvenate absent additional interference or intervention. But my research field _per se_ is ecological succession.”

“Ecological succession?” he echoed.

“Yes,” she said shortly. “Ah, here we go. I’ll show you.”

They stepped into an area of disturbed forest that had been logged some time ago. Already, the ground was mostly covered by grasses and wildflowers in various states of bud, bloom, and seed. There was also a grove of stunted trees in the middle of the clearing. Well, they weren’t stunted, precisely, but they were certainly shorter and more… _crooked_ -looking than the tall, spire-straight evergreens.

Ros led Qui-Gon towards the grove. The lowest branches were close enough to the ground that their spade-shaped leaves brushed the top of Qui-Gon’s head. “These are halspren trees,” she said, “and they’re deciduous, not evergreen. They live and die fast, but without them, new Endorian evergreens would never be able to compete with the grasses in clearings such as this one. See?” Ros pointed to the ground directly beneath the silvery green foliage of the halsprens. No grasses or wildflowers were growing in their shade, but there were a few tiny evergreen saplings. “When the halsprens die off, after three hundred years or so, the evergreens get their chance. Do you understand? Even if the Forestry Stewardship Council had never begun clear-cutting, the Endorian evergreens would go extinct without the halsprens anyway. That’s ecological succession.”

“Fascinating,” Qui-Gon murmured, reaching up to rub a halspren leaf between his fingers. It felt like shimmersilk.

“If you can spare a moment…?” Without waiting for a reply, Ros whipped out a datapad and began jotting down notes.

Idly, Qui-Gon examined the halspren grove more carefully. The trees all looked basically the same, except…hmm. Some had leaves with jagged edges, while on others, the edges of the leaves were all smooth. “Are these trees all the same species?” he asked.

“Oh, are you looking at the leaves?” Ros asked, distracted by what seemed to be a particularly nettlesome calculation. “Yep, same taxon, different phenotypes. My current hypothesis is that the toothed-edged leaves are better in cold weather, while the smooth-edged leaves are better when it’s warmer. Diversity increases overall resilience.”

“Mmm.” These halspren trees really were lovely, Qui-Gon thought to himself. And if they were fast-growing, well, he was surprised they weren’t already to be found in every elite pleasure garden—

“You know,” Ros said, interrupting Qui-Gon’s ruminations, “the lodge is just beyond this clearing, that way.” She gestured in a vaguely southerly direction with her left elbow since both of her hands were occupied. “There are some more extensive measurements I’d like to take here, if you don’t mind, and it’s going to be awhile. No need to wait. I have my comlink with me, if there’s any emergency.”

Qui-Gon hoped there wouldn’t be. “Very well,” he agreed. “I thank you sincerely for your assistance and insights. May the Force be with you.”

“Sure. Later.” Ros didn’t bother looking up from her datapad as Qui-Gon departed.

He’d only just reached the edge of the clearing when he sensed a familiar presence.

“What an unexpected surprise. What brings you to this proverbial neck of the woods, Qui-Gon?” Dooku asked as he stepped out from behind the trunk of a tree.

Although the tone of voice was casual and friendly, there could be no mistake: Dooku was blocking Qui-Gon’s path to the settlers’ lodge.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) All the stuff about Alderaanian and Endorian evergreens, halspren trees, and the ecosystem of the forest moon generally comes straight from my head.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunion with Dooku and shocking revelations at the settler’s lodge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens. ;-)

They’d been the same rank for many years and the same height for many years more than that, yet Qui-Gon still felt his back straightening to attention and his chin rising reflexively. Habits learned as a Padawan were exceedingly difficult to break.

“The Council was concerned. You have been on assignment for nearly a full standard year, yet the settlers have neither vacated nor ceased logging activities on Endor’s moon,” Qui-Gon said.

“Master Yoda is meddling, in other words.” Dooku’s tone of voice and face were inscrutable.

“No. I _wanted_ to come, Master. I…” Qui-Gon let his instincts guide him; honesty, he felt, would be the best policy. “It’s been such a long time since you’ve commed. I missed you.”

Dooku’s expression softened at Qui-Gon’s confession. “Forgive me, Qui-Gon. My duties of late have…consumed my attention. I’ve been neglecting you, and I’ve no excuse for my behavior. I’m sorry.”

Qui-Gon smiled. There, that was the Dooku he knew. All was already forgiven.

“Come,” Dooku said. “You’ve had a long journey and would surely appreciate some rest and refreshment. You shall find both at the settlers’ lodge. I will escort you there.”

As Ros had promised, the settlers’ lodge was indeed just beyond the trees on the edge of the clearing. What she had not bothered to mention, however, was the lumber mill which overshadowed it and which currently appeared, in brazen defiance of Chancellor Valorum’s executive order, to be operating at full capacity.

The fragrant scent of freshly cut wood hung in the air, and the ground beneath Qui-Gon’s feet was completely covered in several centimeters’ worth of wood chips, evergreen needles, and sawdust. The lumber mill itself was impressive, in its way, repurposed from the colony starship that had been used to carry the settlers to the forest moon in the first place. Endorian evergreens, the true two-hundred meters tall heights of which could, ironically, only be appreciated after they had been felled, entered the mill on one end, and from the opposite end emerged perfectly hewn pallets of untreated lumber in a variety of standard sizes. Shrill, overlapping shrieks of industrial-sized vibrosaws were the only sensory evidence of the processes being conducted within the mill.

Whatever those processes were, Qui-Gon was inclined to assume that they were mostly automated because a troubling number of settlers, armed with modified blaster rifles more suited to war than subsistence hunting, were stationed in a rough perimeter around the encampment comprising the lumber mill, the settlers’ lodge, and a handful of smaller, open-fronted buildings being used as miscellaneous storage sheds and garages for land transport. The machines used to cut down and haul the giant trees back to the mill were nowhere in evidence—Qui-Gon supposed that they were all being used out in the field somewhere.

The perimeter guards did not stop Dooku or question Qui-Gon’s presence alongside him. They barely acknowledged the two Jedi, in fact. If nothing else, Qui-Gon was relieved to see that Dooku’s relationship with the settlers had not broken down. That had been both a real possibility and a serious concern.

In comparison to the state-of-the-art lumber mill, the oblong settlers’ lodge, erected entirely using indigenous materials, looked downright primitive. Inside, it was a single cavernous hall, with sleeping cubbyholes stacked three high on every wall, each one large enough to accommodate an entire family. The remainder of the lodge’s space appeared to be multipurpose: food preparation and dining; lounging and relaxation; socializing and play; childcare. Everything was all out in the open, everyone living their lives together: Two beings coupled vigorously in one cubbyhole in full, unobstructed view of five pre-adolescent younglings playing make-believe with stuffed toys and a model treehouse. Even the Jedi Temple offered its communal inhabitants more privacy! Qui-Gon mused.

Dooku seemed not to notice any of it and escorted him directly to a lounge area. Comfortable chairs upholstered in a colorful diversity of thickly-furred animal pelts were arranged in a semicircle around an open fire pit where skewers of cubed meat and root vegetables were slow-roasting. A thickset Human male in utilitarian tunics and trousers was crouched near the fire and pouring steaming brown liquid from a large kettle into three ceramic mugs.

Three. They had been expecting Qui-Gon’s arrival.

“Here you go. Take any seat you like, Master Jedi,” the man said as he handed Qui-Gon one of the mugs. Dooku, already seated, received a second mug.

Qui-Gon blinked in surprise as he sat down as requested in the chair immediately to Dooku’s left. Hadn’t he seen this man just last night in the Senate rotunda—? “Aspern Hale?” he asked, his bafflement plain.

The man laughed heartily as plopped himself heavily in a third chair. “Aspern’s my little brother. I’m Virch.”

“I see. Forgive my mistake,” Qui-Gon said demurely and took a small sip from his mug. It was some sort of fermented leaf tea, a variety he’d never tasted before, unsweetened, bracingly earthy and sour, with subtle notes of windswept willowgrass. "Mmm. How delightful. My name is Qui-Gon Jinn,” he added.

“Virch is foreman for the Forestry Stewardship Council’s local operations on the Endor moon,” Dooku supplied.

So, this Virch was the leader of the settlers here. But his younger brother was in charge of operations as a whole back on Coruscant. Qui-Gon took another small sip of tea as he gathered his thoughts. “How unusual,” he remarked lightly, so as not to give unintentional offense. “In the case of family-controlled corporate interests, it’s usually the elder sibling working the halls of Senate.”

Fortunately, Virch was not offended. “Aspern loves the politics. Me? I’d sooner shoot myself with my blaster rifle!” He guffawed but lapsed quickly back to sobriety. “I prefer honest labor with hardworking men and women. This is where I am needed, and it is where I belong,” he said, gesturing expansively. His expression, however, had turned hard and fierce.

Qui-Gon noted the change and knew he would need to proceed with just the right balance of delicacy and candor. He curled his fingers into the armrest of his chair, noting idly that multiple pelts had clearly been used; the specimen underneath his left hand was striped gray and black, while the other underneath his right was a solid shade of nut brown. Yet both were otherwise identical to the touch, furry and luxuriously plush.

“I appreciate a being with no patience for politics,” Qui-Gon said, “so I’ll cut right to the chase: You must vacate the forest moon of Endor immediately. If you do not, the Republic Senate will take putative action against the Forestry Stewardship Council, up to and including criminal charges, and unfortunately, it will likely be the beings under your direct protection who suffer the most from your continued defiance.”

It was a painful statement to have to make in this context, but it was, Qui-Gon knew, a true one. While the powerful jockeyed for position, the weak got tossed out of the speeder without a safety harness.

“The men and women under my protection are already suffering!” Virch roared, temper abruptly snapping. “Did your high and mighty Jedi Council bother to tell you how many we’ve lost?! Good men, husbands and fathers, taken and…and….and…even my own brother-in law—!!” Virch’s face so purple with rage that Qui-Gon worried he might burst a blood vessel.

“Please, there is no need to shout—” Qui-Gon began.

“ _Those savages_ ate _them!!!_ ”

“Hold on—” Qui-Gon looked to Dooku for support, but Dooku’s expression had become inscrutable once more.

“The men are on triple shifts because they’re providing for the widows and orphans on top of their own families now, and when they’re not working or sleeping, they’re on sentry duty. And we. Are not. Leaving. Until. My niece and nephew. Are. Found.” Virch enunciated each word with the perfect precision of barely leashed fury.

“Your niece and nephew? What happened to them?” Qui-Gon was struggling to keep up with the barrage of new revelations.

Taken, right from their beds!! _Those savages_ —” Virch’s roar caught in his throat, and he began to cry inconsolably.

Dooku rested a comforting hand on Virch’s shoulder as he sobbed. “The primitives indigenous to the Endor moon are hostile savages, Qui-Gon,” Dooku explained. “They have killed nineteen settlers, and their bodies were found, ah well, we think they were butchered like nerf steers.” Qui-Gon winced sympathetically; cannibalism, if proven, was a heinous crime. He also noticed Dooku’s “we” but said nothing. “Now they’ve begun taking children too, but the party sent out to rescue them was slaughtered wholesale…”

“Sir, may I have a moment?” A Human boy, no more older than twelve, had appeared in front the fire pit. His expression was pained, and he shot a nervous glance in Qui-Gon’s direction. Whatever his reason for interrupting, it was clearly pressing, though, and Virch motioned for him to continue without delay.

The boy gulped and stammered, “It’s Willoe, sir, your sister— She’s, see, she’s…she’s left a note: Says she’s gone to find Teek and Hayzil herself.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon and Dooku have a candid discussion. Qui-Gon is disturbed by what he learns.

Virch lurched to his feet and stormed out of the settlers’ lodge, all the while uttering a string of semi-coherent expletives. The Human boy who had given him the news hurried to follow, a small, anxious shadow trailing in Virch’s wake.

Qui-Gon made to stand as well; the situation on the forest moon was fast becoming a crisis, and he did not want it to escalate entirely out of control. Moreover, although he did not fully understand the source of the conflict between the settlers and the indigenous sentients, he was certain that he ought to be present should—

“No. Wait here. They will not leave to seek out Willoe without us,” Dooku said, interrupting the trajectory of Qui-Gon’s thoughts.

Qui-Gon hesitated, already half-risen from the chair.

“I told you to remain seated, Qui-Gon,” Dooku said firmly. His tone made it abundantly clear that he would not tolerate disobedience.

Reluctantly, Qui-Gon settled back down. “Very well, I will do as you ask,” he conceded, “but I do not understand how remaining here at such a time is the best course.”

“There is much you do not yet understand,” Dooku pointed out.

Well, Qui-Gon had no disagreements there! “Then please help me to understand, Master,” he said.

“Of course,” Dooku replied agreeably. He reached toward the fire pit, removed a skewer from the cooking grill, and passed it to Qui-Gon. “Here, eat now. You always did have a lamentable tendency to put your own bodily needs last.” Dooku’s expression was exasperated, tender, fond.

Qui-Gon took the skewer and studied the alternating cubes of sizzling meat and roasted root vegetables on it with interest. “Is this local cuisine?” he asked.

“Absolutely. The settlers pride themselves on self-sufficiency.”

“I see.” Qui-Gon tried one of the root vegetables first; it was starchy and mildly sweet. Inoffensive and ordinary. Then he tried a piece of the meat; it tasted…odd. Piquant. Almost spicy. “What is this meat from? The same animal that upholstered the chairs?”

“Goodness, no! That’s bastemuth, a leaf-browsing quadruped. The diet of evergreen needles gives the flesh an intriguing flavor, don’t you think? ” Dooku claimed a skewer for himself but merely held it and did not eat. “I doubt these would be palatable anyway,” he added quietly, almost an afterthought, smoothing the furry pelt on the armrest of his own chair.

“Master, why have you not removed these settlers yet?” All this small talk was starting to make Qui-Gon uncomfortable. He wanted to focus on the mission. “They are clearly suffering from mounting casualties, and now it seems that the lives of younglings are being threatened as well. I believe we must begin evacuations as soon as possible—”

“No! The settlers are staying!!” Dooku shouted. His grip on his skewer tightened so much that it snapped, the food dropping unremarked to the wooden plank floor of the settlers’ lodge with a greasy plop. Qui-Gon blinked, startled by this show of defiant emotion, so uncharacteristic of his former Master, and opened his mouth to protest. But Dooku wasn’t finished. “Valorum is an idealistic fool. What on the Endor moon is worth protecting? What, I ask you! The trees are good only for their wood. The indigenes are primitive savages. And there are men and women—good men and women, Qui-Gon!—who have chosen to make their modest livelihoods here.” He gestured expansively around the lodge in a manner that reminded Qui-Gon of Virch earlier. “It is the settlers, and not the corrupt politicians “serving” in the Senate, who have become the last true civilizing force in this savage galaxy of ours!”

The Jedi upheld the virtues of civilization, of course, for the peace and justice they brought to the galaxy’s sentients. But Qui-Gon had seen little justice and even less peace since his arrival on the forest moon, and as a general guiding principle, he took it for granted that civilization and the Republic’s rule of law were one and the same. Besides, the Senate had held a vote yesterday upholding the legality of Valorum’s removal order; as Jedi, he and Dooku must be responsible for enforcement of that order.

“But, Master! The Senate—” Qui-Gon protested feebly.

“Are even bigger fools than Valorum! The _Senate_ ,” Dooku said the name of that august body with a sneer, “would make this moon into just another offworld pleasure garden for the urban elites on Coruscant. _They_ neither require nor deserve additional privileges. The men and women of the Forestry Stewardship Council ought to be the primary beneficiaries of the Endor moon’s banal resources—we fail in our vows to uphold the Jedi Code if we allow politicians to run roughshod over their needs.”

It came as no surprise that Dooku knew exactly how to appeal to Qui-Gon’s natural sympathies. As he had already told Virch, he had little patience for politics or politicians, and Dooku obviously felt the same these days. Qui-Gon did, however, hold his fellow Masters and the High Council of the Jedi Order in great esteem, even on those occasions that he (respectfully) disagreed with their conclusions.

“The Council—” Qui-Gon tried again, tentative.

“Can go hang themselves from Master Yoda’s pointy green ears!” Qui-Gon actually gasped aloud at this blasphemy. Dooku ignored him and continued without pause. “For too long we Jedi have been supine while democracy itself is in decline,” Dooku snarled. “If the Republic will not look after its most vulnerable citizens, then who will?! I will _not_ be beholden in service to a corrupt government. I know where my responsibilities lie, and it is with these settlers. So whose side are _you_ on, Qui-Gon?!”

Now Qui-Gon was legitimately speechless. The Jedi Order served at the pleasure of the Galactic Republic: They were guardians, diplomats, peacekeepers, advisers, _scholars_ …and they most certainly did not choose sides in local planetary and/or system conflicts. Whether uncontacted indigenes or natural born Republic citizens, all sentient beings were entitled to basic species rights. Dooku should have been de-escalating this conflict, not abetting it! Why was he supporting these settlers in what was evidently an ongoing grudge-driven campaign against the forest moon’s indigenes? How were his actions here supposed to reinforce the democratic principles that Dooku was claiming to espouse??

Qui-Gon didn’t understand any of it, and that made him feel…uneasy. Dooku had _changed_. In spite of himself, he was beginning to dare to wonder—

“I said— Let me _go_!” a female voice cried out angrily.

Two Human males dragged a single struggling being into the settlers’ lodge and threw it down in front of the fire pit. The being fell heavily to the floor, curled up tightly into a fetal position, knees drawn into the chest and arms wrapped protectively over the head. The being moaned in pain. Virch strode up to the figure and kicked the small of its back. The being moaned a second time.

“Now, is this display really necessary—?” Qui-Gon began.

Virch ignored him and prodded the being again with one booted toe. “You will tell us where their village is, or I promise you will live to regret it, Professor Pallas.”

Ros shifted slightly, so that her face was partially visible. Her expression of disgust and loathing was unmistakable, however. “The Ewoks exist in obligate symbiosis with the Endorian evergreens. No Ewoks, no new trees for you to cut down,” she hissed.

“This isn’t a sustainable logging initiative, Professor Pallas, or haven’t you received the memo?” Virch growled. He stomped down hard on Ros’s shoulder, eliciting yet another moan. “They have my sister and her children. My patience. Wears. Thin.”  

“If I tell you, you and your thugs will slaughter them all.”

“Precisely.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is (or _should be_ ) the halfway mark for the story. Please do let me know what you think thus far! :-)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon effects a compromise. A rescue party sets out into the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied: We weren’t quite at the halfway mark yet. Also, I’m boosting the story rating to “Mature” (R-rated) starting with this chapter.

Virch kicked Ros a few more times for good measure, but with the exception of a few more muffled gasps and groans, her lips remained sealed.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_!” Virch swore. There were tears in his eyes again. “What am I going to _do_?! Master Dooku, is there anything…?”

Dooku’s expression was ominous. “Torture as a means of extracting information is not a reliable method, and it is exceedingly difficult to probe the recesses of an unwilling mind, even for the most powerful of Jedi. However…” Dooku stopped speaking and stroked his beard thoughtfully, pondering the situation.

“Erm, if I may?” Qui-Gon ventured. He did not like seeing Dooku wonder if the Force could be used to break into Ros’s mind and coerce the location of this village of Ewoks from her. That seemed…excessive. There were other alternatives, Qui-Gon knew, even if they required rather more delicacy and tact than had been shown by any party in this encounter thus far.

Wrapped up so thoroughly in his own misery, Virch did not react one way or the other to his request, so Qui-Gon decided to take that as tacit permission. He got down on his knees beside Ros’s prone form and pulled her gently into a sitting position. Although red with justifiable anger and smarting from the injuries inflicted upon her, Qui-Gon could tell she was lucid.

“Ros, are you hurt badly? Is anything broken?” he asked.

She didn’t seem to know. She merely shrugged helplessly, wincing at the bruise already blooming on her shoulder where Virch had planted his foot.

“Will you allow me to check?”

She nodded. Qui-Gon did, as gently and respectfully as he could manage. Fortunately, nothing seemed to be broken. He said as much.

Ros acknowledged him with a slight incline of her head. Otherwise, she said nothing. When her eyes swiveled to rest upon Virch, the other settlers, including a small crowd that had come into the lodge to witness the spectacle of Ros’s interrogation, and even Dooku himself, though, they were ice cold.  

“Ros, perhaps you could reach some manner of compromise with Virch,” Qui-Gon suggested.

She snorted.

“The two of you have had your differences in the past, I’m sure, and the abuse he has committed against your person is inexcusable. You will”—Qui-Gon shot a warning glance up at Virch—“be given the opportunity to seek restitution should you wish it.” Qui-Gon paused to allow that time to sink in before continuing. “For now, however, our priority must be the children and their mother. If, say, Master Dooku and myself were to accompany the rescue party and ensure that casualties are minimized, would you agree to provide the location of this village?”

The silence was deadly. Ros glared at Virch and then at Dooku. If anything, Qui-Gon was troubled to realize, her hatred of Dooku was even stronger than her hatred of Virch and the rest of the settlers. But he supposed the assessment was fair, given that Dooku had not been evacuating the settlers as he should have done. Finally, Ros’s attention returned to Qui-Gon, and after another long, pregnant silence, she sighed and asked, “Do you swear?”

“On the sanctity of the Living Force,” Qui-Gon replied.

Ros nodded and held out her hand. Qui-Gon took it, rose to his feet, and with his assistance, helped Ros to stand as well. “All right,” she said, flat and frigid. “It’s not like I’m being given much of a choice. I will assist you—but upon one condition: I want to accompany you. I can’t stop them if they break your promise, Qui-Gon, but I _will_ bear witness to it.”

“Now, I really don’t think a _woman_ should be coming—” Virch started, protesting.

“Ros will be my responsibility,” Qui-Gon interrupted. “You are free to focus on your family, Virch—and they’re the ones who need you,” he added with no small measure of compassion.

***

While Qui-Gon and Dooku had been talking inside the settlers’ lodge, Virch, it seemed, had assembled a rescue party consisting of a dozen able-bodied Human males armed with modified blaster rifles. Qui-Gon was not particularly surprised to note that there were no females, let alone non-Humans, present. Settlers were often insular and chauvinistic, intolerant of both species outsiders and non-traditional gender roles. These men were loggers by trade, though, not soldiers, and they lacked the physical, not to mention _psychological_ , discipline of combat training. That, also, was unsurprising…and potentially dangerous.

“I don’t suppose I might convince your men to leave their blaster rifles here at the encampment?” Qui-Gon asked without expectation.

“No,” Virch replied shortly.

They set out into the forest in a roughly southwesterly direction, with Ros in the lead, Qui-Gon and Virch beside her. Dooku stayed at the back of the rescue party, protecting their rear flank from ambush and ensuring that nobody went astray. Everyone was wary of the unfamiliar terrain; hardly anyone spoke.

After three hours hiking through the forest, one of the men gave an unexpected shout. “What is— Oh Gods—!” he exclaimed as he plunged headlong into a thicket and out of sight.

“No, stay on the path!” Ros yelled. It’s dangerous—”

Qui-Gon didn’t wait to hear more; he bolted after the man. Virch, Ros, and the rest of the rescue party followed closely behind.

They found the man less than fifty meters away, retching. And just beyond where he was doubled over—

—a half-butchered Human corpse tossed over a low-hanging branch of a dead halspren tree. Most of the flesh from the torso and the limbs had been expertly removed, as, it appeared, had the internal organs. A swarm of buzzing insects was feeding and breeding on what remained; pale insect larvae spilled, wriggling, from the eye sockets. Yet even so, the face was mostly intact; it was middle-aged, bearded, and male.

One of the other men stepped forward. For an instant, Qui-Gon thought he was going to be sick too, but no, he was stiff and controlled. “Haok, my uncle,” the man said to no one in particular. He reached for the corpse. “He deserves a proper burial. Let’s get him down—”

“ _No! Do not touch it!!_ ” Ros tackled the man, and they both tumbled to the ground.

“How _dare_ you?!” the man snarled as he leapt back upright, leaf mold falling from his hair and clothes like confetti as he pointed a blaster rifle at Ros. “You little _whore_ —”

“Put. The blaster. Down.” Virch. He pulled a small vibroknife from the cuff of his boot and brushed a pile of leaves off what appeared to be a crude woven rope running along the forest floor. “Our illustrious xenobotanist is right. It’s a net snare, you moof-milking imbecile!” he growled as he sawed through the rope.

Dooku strode forward and placed a warning hand on the shoulder of the man whose uncle’s corpse remained in the tree. “We cannot carry him with us, so we must leave him for now. But we will return. Fear not. You will not bear this burden alone,” Dooku assured him.

The man acquiesced to Dooku’s judgment and withdrew to seek solace from his comrades.

“Take five minutes,” Virch announced.

Virch was a good leader, Qui-Gon decided—focused on the task at hand but sympathetic to the emotional and practical needs of his people, even when under extreme personal duress. Qui-Gon had, perhaps, been underestimating him.

Dooku rejoined Qui-Gon’s side as he contemplated the horrific spectacle before them. “You see what they do?” he asked. “They eat whom they capture, and then they bait their traps with what remains. Can you truly believe that sentient beings possessed of such unmitigated, savage cruelty deserve the Supreme Chancellor’s protection?”

“I do not believe that you are asking the right question, Master,” Qui-Gon answered contemplatively. The hum of the carrion insect wings was hypnotic.

“Your naïveté is as endearing as ever, Qui-Gon,” Dooku said.

He may have wanted to say more, but with a curt command from Virch, the rescue party was on the move again, and there was no opportunity for further discussion.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation in the Ewok village.

Abruptly, Ros came to a halt. “All right. We’re here. This is the village,” she announced.

Qui-Gon looked all around, puzzled. He didn’t see any village! He saw little, in fact, beyond just another stretch of virgin Endorian evergreen forest, and he likewise heard nothing to suggest sentient activity constituting anything resembling a village. He sensed an abundance of life in the Force, of course, but the entire moon had thus far felt the same in its vibrancy. About the only notable thing he was able to observe by the dappled light filtering down to the forest floor were some unusual bits of refuse piled around the bases of the trees—

 _Oh_. Qui-Gon craned his neck and peered up into the leafy canopy. He couldn’t be absolutely certain, but, hmm, maybe he thought he saw—

Something sharp jabbed the back of his knee.

A furry, bipedal creature no more than a meter tall was threatening him with a spear. It wore a necklace of animal teeth and a leather hood with holes cut into it to accommodate its large, tufted ears. The creature’s nose twitched, and its beady black eyes narrowed with unmistakable hostility. It prodded Qui-Gon’s calf muscle with the sharp, stone tip of its spear, hard enough this time to draw blood.

The men of the rescue party were muttering and cursing. At least forty of the creatures had encircled them, and they were all armed with spears and closing in. They were making chattering noises that sounded threatening, but if it was a language, Qui-Gon could not comprehend it.

One of the men standing close to Qui-Gon lifted his blaster rifle to take aim; Qui-Gon knocked it from his hands. The man cursed furiously. Other men began raising their blaster rifles as well.

“No, lower your weapons,” Qui-Gon said, loud but calm. He was addressing the entire group. “We must allow them to take us prisoner so that they show us where the children and their mother are being kept.”

“The Jedi is right. Lower your weapons and place them on the ground—slowly,” Virch commanded.

They grumbled, but they did as they were told.

***

The Ewoks—for that is what the settlers called them on those rare occasions they weren’t merely “primitives” or “savages” (Qui-Gon had no idea what they might call themselves)—confiscated all of the surrendered blaster rifles. They did not notice the lightsabers clipped to his and Dooku’s utility belts, however, and Qui-Gon did not see fit to alert them to their presence.

Oddly, they also ignored Ros entirely. Perhaps they were already acquainted with her and knew she was no threat to them? Or perhaps they sensed that she had been a captive of sorts too, or at the very least an unenthusiastic participant in the rescue mission, and saw fit to free her from bondage? Or did they have some other manner of extrasensory perception? Whatever the case, Qui-Gon realized, these Ewoks were not to be underestimated.

Ros waved a sardonic farewell as Qui-Gon, Dooku, Virch, and the rest of the rescue party were escorted at spear point in the direction of parts unknown. Qui-Gon hoped they were being taken wherever it was that Willoe and her children were being kept.

The early signs were promising. First, they were marched up an ingenious ramp spiraling up the trunk of an especially large, old Endorian evergreen. Although the Humans were all twice as large as the Ewoks, the ramp took their entire party’s weight easily, with nary a creak and no wobbling whatsoever. It may well have been practically new. Qui-Gon found himself wondering why they’d even bothered building it in the first place: Their fingers and toes all sported thick, curved claws evolved for tree-climbing. Was this ramp for invalids? Or—a more sinister possibility—was it intended expressly for the convenient movement of Human captives?

The Ewok’s village in the trees was, if possible, even more impressive still. Dozens, if not hundreds, of treehouses were linked by a crisscrossing web of hanging bridges. Buildings at different elevations were connected by ropes and ladders…or nothing apparent at all. There was no immediate suggestion of social stratification, let alone formal governance, in the layout of the village.

And it was beautiful. Each and every one of the village’s constructions flowed like water around the natural shapes and growth patterns of the trees, in harmonious co-existence within the trees’ leafy canopy. Ros had said something to Virch back in the settlers’ lodge about obligate symbiosis, and Qui-Gon could see what she meant: The village’s trees were notably larger and healthier, and bearing heavier loads of both needles and pinefruit on their branches, than trees elsewhere, and it was likewise impossible to imagine these furry little creatures anywhere _but_ their forest home. Through the eyes of the Force, Qui-Gon could sense strength and peace and simple, ordinary lives lived to their fullest for countless uninterrupted generations.

The hanging walkways were all quite generously proportioned for Ewoks, but they allowed no more than two Humans at a time to walk abreast. Virch and Qui-Gon were still at the front of the rescue party, while Dooku was at the rear. They moved onto an especially long bridge, at least one-hundred meters end to end. Virch’s eyes roved everywhere, over buildings, trying to see through the small, partially open doors and tiny windows, and over the complex network of walkways, seeking any sign of Humans. So intent was he in his search that he did not even flinch or otherwise react whenever an Ewok prodded him with its spear to walk faster.

The Ewoks themselves were fascinating as well. If they had distinct sexes or genders, Qui-Gon could not distinguish them. Their fur, on the other hand, came in a wide variety of colors, mostly shades of solid brown, some so dark they were nearly black. He’d also seen some gray individuals, however, and one that was cream-colored. There were even a few with stripes; ah, over there was one with a complex pattern of alternating gray and black. Hey, wait a minute. Now where had Qui-Gon seen _that_ before—?

“Teek! Hayzil!” Virch shouted suddenly. He was looking straight up.

Two Human children no older than five or six years of age stood on a walkway some eight meters above their heads. The boy looked badly beaten; both of his eyes were blackened, and his chin and cheeks were swollen. When he saw Virch, he began to wail. The girl, who at least did not appear harmed, wrapped her arms around her brother protectively to comfort him, but his wails only became louder.

Summoned by Teek’s cries, a half-dozen Ewoks swarmed the children and began to hustle them forcefully away—

“No!” Virch yelled. He was practically crying himself; this far away, he was utterly _helpless_ —

The snap-hiss of an ignited lightsaber—

A Force-propelled leap—

And Dooku’s sapphire blade crashed into Qui-Gon’s emerald one.

“What are you _doing_ , Qui-Gon?! Why are you protecting these _animals_?!” Dooku hissed, his deep, resonant voice turned ugly by fury. He leaned into the parry, but Qui-Gon would not give any ground. Their faces came close together, and Qui-Gon could see how exhausted and bloodshot the whites of Dooku’s eyes had become. It almost seemed, in fact, like his irises glinted gold—

“Master Dooku? What are _you_ doing here?”

An unfamiliar feminine voice. A woman’s. Yes, Qui-Gon could see her over Dooku’s shoulder. That must be Willoe.

“Sheath your saber, Master,” Qui-Gon said. “There was much I did not understand—you were right. But now I think I have achieved the necessary understanding.”

Dooku snarled, and for several awful seconds Qui-Gon was afraid that he would not comply. His eyes were a bright, sickly yellow; the dark side was consuming him.

“Please, Master. Turn around and see for yourself,” Qui-Gon begged softly. “Have I ever striven to deceive you? You must trust in me now.”

It felt like an eternity, but finally—finally!—Dooku reluctantly extinguished his lightsaber and turned to face Willoe—

—who was crouched in the doorway of a treehouse, her arms wrapped around both of her weeping children. There were Ewoks armed with stone-tipped spears all around her as well, but they were not there to threaten her or the children.

 _They were there to protect them_.

“Willoe!” Virch cried out. Two Ewoks clung to his legs, and there was another hanging doggedly from his neck, but somehow he’d managed to make his way up to this walkway himself.

The chattering of the Ewoks grew more agitated when they saw Virch, and Willoe’s expression hardened. “You and your men aren’t welcome here, Virch,” she said. “Leave—and never, ever come back.”

“What by the Gods are you talking about? We came here to rescue you!” Virch sputtered. The Ewok hanging from Virch’s neck had begun to gnaw on his shoulder, but its teeth couldn’t penetrate the thick layers of Virch’s tunics, and Virch ignored it.

“Did it occur to you that maybe we didn’t want to be rescued?!”

“But those little savages hurt Teek!”

“Wrongheaded as ever, Virch. My _beloved husband_ hurt Teek because Teek loves the Ewoks. Why do you think the children ran away in the first place?!”

“What do you—”

“He was a cruel and violent man. Your precious Forestry Stewardship Council didn’t protect us. Gods, you probably would’ve taken his side! But Teek and Hayzil wanted to be free of him, and now we all are. I’m glad he’s dead!” Willoe declared.

“These animal savages _ate_ him!” Virch fumed.

“And your men skinned these ‘animal savages’ for furniture! Don’t you dare try to stake out the moral high ground!”

“That’s different—”

But Willoe had clearly had more than enough oral argumentation with her brother. Utterly without shame, she unlaced her bodice and bared her breasts before them. There was not a single millimeter of unblemished skin. Years upon years of bite marks covered the flesh of her chest and shoulders…and they were _Human_ bite marks.

Qui-Gon could actually feel the waves of Dooku’s dismay in the Force. So, he hadn’t known about this ongoing domestic violence either.

“Tell me who the savage is now, brother dearest,” Willoe said.

“Oh Gods… No… Willoe…” Like a punctured air balloon, all of the fight fled Virch’s thickset frame. The Ewoks surrounding Willoe, Teek, and Hazyil lowered their spears, and the three Ewoks clinging to Virch, sensing that the threat had passed, released him.

And just like that, it was over.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Animal behaviorists [have suggested](http://dogsensebook.com/index.php/about/) that domesticated dogs actually regard human men, women, and children as three separate categories, and that their trust—or mistrust—in each category of human is learned separately. So if you’ve ever wondered why your dog seems hostile to strange men but not women and/or children, that might be why. The Ewoks in this story are written like that: Because the men were consistently aggressive toward them, they treat men with hostility, but women and children are not automatically lumped together with the men and deemed a threat in the same manner. This also goes a way toward explaining why Leia gets on so much more easily with the Ewoks than Luke and Han in _Return of the Jedi_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An accommodation is reached.

Had it begun because the Ewoks were hunting and trapping the men out logging in the forest for food? Or had it begun because the settlers were treating the Ewoks defending their Endorian evergreen homes like vermin suitable solely for extermination? Qui-Gon didn’t care who, Human or Ewok, had started it—because now, Qui-Gon was ending it.

And fortunately, Virch, shocked and subdued by his sister’s revelations, was uncharacteristically obliging. He would see to it that all Forestry Stewardship Council logging activities ceased immediately, and he would oversee the expedited removal and relocation of all of the settlers to other suitable systems. He would speak to his brother Aspern. Once Virch was assured that his family would not be staying with the Ewoks, he didn’t try to argue. He didn’t, in fact, even seem to care that criminal charges might be brought against him and some of the other settlers…although given the many bad deeds all around, Qui-Gon would expect the Judicials to be lenient.

The most difficult part, really, had been convincing Willoe and the children to leave the Ewok village at all. They had genuinely come to love the Endor moon and had no more interest in clear-cutting its forests than the Ewoks themselves. The Supreme Chancellor’s removal order extended to all non-essential Republic citizens, however, so allowing them to remain behind was not an option.

As for the Ewoks, well, Qui-Gon had no idea how much they truly understood of the situation. Willoe claimed that Teek and Hayzil had learned to speak the Ewok language in a rudimentary fashion, but the siblings were five and six years old respectively, so there were practical limits to what they could convey in the best of circumstances. The Ewoks did seem to sense that the settlers no longer posed any threat, though, and had returned the men’s blaster rifles and were permitting them to explore and mingle freely in the village.

Qui-Gon watched the children make their tearful goodbyes to their Ewok friends. The Ewoks were tactile, emotionally demonstrative beings; the entire village, it seemed, found time to exchange big bear hug after big bear hug with Teek and Hayzil. Even the individual with the necklace of animal teeth that had been poking Qui-Gon’s leg with its spear earlier seemed willing to put the past behind them, and it too offered Qui-Gon an embrace. He got down on his knees and accepted it; right and wrong may depend upon one’s own point of view, but the power to forgive was absolute in its virtue.

These were beings that lived fully in the moment. There was a very important lesson to be learned from them.

And besides, Qui-Gon decided, that thick, plush fur felt better on the living being than it did upholstered on a settler’s armchair. It smelled better, too—of pethodder musk and Chandrilan honeydew.

It was only at some point later on, while Qui-Gon stood off to the side, admiring how industrious and agile the Ewoks actually were, in spite of their short statures and stumpy limbs, and how pleasant it was to be in mixed species company again, that he realized something important: Dooku was nowhere to be found.

***

His instincts guided him to a natural clearing in the forest roughly a kilometer distant from the Ewok village.  At the center of the clearing, a single halspren tree, the largest and grandest by far that Qui-Gon had yet seen on the forest moon, spread its knotted, silvery boughs skyward.

Ros was standing in front of the tree, near the branch closest to the ground, putting it roughly at her eye level, and furiously tapping notes into her datapad.

Qui-Gon cleared his throat to announce his arrival.

Ros didn’t even bother to turn around. “In my thirty-six years as a xenobotanist, I’ve never seen anything like this in the wild before!” she enthused. “This may be the only one of its kind anywhere!”

The halspren tree was large, it was true, but it did not seem fundamentally any different from the ones Ros had previously shown him. Qui-Gon approached and stood beside Ros, examining it for any unusual characteristics…

And then he could see it.

“The leaves,” Qui-Gon said. “This tree has both types of leaves.”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Ros crowed gleefully.

“Hmm, could it be that two trees have grown so closely together that they now look like one?” he asked.

“That was my first thought as well. But see?” Ros pointed to a thin branch. “This is new growth, less than a year old, and it bears both smooth-edged and toothed-edged leaves on it. My working hypothesis is that this tree is a chimera.”

“A ‘chimera’?” Qui-Gon echoed.

“A genetic chimera. Although I can do little more than speculate at this stage as to the exact underlying reproductive mechanism, this individual is almost certainly a tetragametic chimera. It possesses twice the number of chromosomes with both known genotypes and therefore displays both halspren phenotypes.”

“Ah yes,” Qui-Gon mused, “I’ve heard of this phenomenon before in Humans. Fraternal twins merging in the womb, resulting in the birth of a single individual possessing characteristics of both. Two differently colored eyes, for example, or two blood types. But most of the time, these individuals never even realize that they began life as more than one being.”

“Correct. But most of the Human cases known to science are mosaic chimeras; the underlying genotypes are unevenly distributed. That does not appear to be the case for here; as far as I’m aware, this halspren tree’s chimerism is unlike anything previously described in the field of xenobotany!”

Ros’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Qui-Gon found himself keen to learn more. He allowed himself to sink into the ebb and flow of the Force, to feel for this tree’s place in it. If Ros was correct and it was in fact two separate beings that had become one as embryos, he sensed none of that. This tree had sprouted from its seed as one being, like any other…and yet no tree, let alone _this_ tree, was ever only one being. Indeed, Qui-Gon could sense its place in the Force which constituted all life in the galaxy, interconnected and interpenetrated and co-dependent, the one and the many in an endless, choreographed dance of decay and renewal, development and prosperity, decline and fall. 

This tree embodied the philosophical paradox at the heart of the Living Force. The whole was always and forever more than the sum of its constituent parts.

“—suspect the tree owes its unusual vigor to its chimerism. Preliminary visual estimate of its circumference a half-meter above the base suggests that it has already exceeded the maximum known life expectancy for halspren trees,” Ros was saying, more to herself than to Qui-Gon. “Yes, I will need to take samples.”

Qui-Gon watched without comment as Ros broke a few small branches off and tucked them under her arm.

“Now, if you will excuse me?” Ros said, looking directly at Qui-Gon for the first time. “These samples have to be placed in storage before cell death commences. For that, I must return to my research vessel.”

“Of course. May the Force be with you,” Qui-Gon replied.

“The Force does seem to be smiling down on me today! Who’d have thought? I’ll have to remember to send Virch a thank you holomessage once I’m back on Coruscant.” Ros chuckled distractedly and set off rapidly into the forest in a direction that Qui-Gon could only presume would take her where she needed to go.

Once Ros was out of sight, Qui-Gon ducked beneath the chimeric halspren tree’s branches and reached out to touch its trunk. He began a slow circuit around the trunk of the tree, the tips of his fingers brushing the smooth texture of the bark as he went. He stopped walking only when he would have had to step over the body hunched over on the ground near the tree’s base in order to complete his circuit.

“Master, you know better than to try to hide from me,” Qui-Gon said calmly.

Dooku ignored him.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, more xenobotany. But there is a point to all this, I promise. ;-)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dooku and Qui-Gon beneath the halspren tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sexually explicit (NC-17)…just in case anyone feels they require that warning. ;-)

Qui-Gon knelt down beside Dooku and waited.

Dooku was as still and quiet as death itself.

“The settlers have agreed to depart peacefully. Virch will persuade his brother to stand down in the Senate debate. The forest moon of Endor should become an indigenous wildlife sanctuary as Valorum intended.”

Silence.

“The mission is nearly over, Master. There will be no more killings here. Soon, we shall be able to return to the Temple.”

More silence.

“Look at me. Please. _Please_.” Qui-Gon leaned forward to take Dooku’s head into his hands, bringing their faces together. Dooku’s expression was pale and drawn, and although he was not crying, there were shadows, indigo bruises under both eyes. And as for his eyes…

“Seven Heavens! I’m so angry, Qui-Gon,” Dooku moaned as flashes of gold tumbled chaotically through the ordinary brown of his irises. “I feel— I’m just— I know I was wrong, completely wrong, and that I ought to purge this rage, to banish it, but I can’t—and it’s poison! It’s eating me alive! I’m falling, falling into the abyss, Qui-Gon; I can’t hold on…”

“No, Master. No. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here,” Qui-Gon murmured soothingly, guiding Dooku’s head to his breast and cradling him close. He would save him. He _had_ to. “Listen to my voice, Master, and hold on to _me_. You’ve always trusted me before. Give me your trust again now. I will not allow the darkness to consume you.”

Dooku’s body was stiff, stubborn, resisting.

“Trust in me. Feel me. Follow my voice. I will lead you back,” Qui-Gon begged as he held is mind open for Dooku—

—and Dooku’s mind rushed in to fill it. A tidal wave of power and darkness and pollution and fury, so strong that it threatened to sweep Qui-Gon’s centered calm away. But to fight it would be futile, so Qui-Gon merely opened himself wider, to take more and more and more of everything Dooku was—and had always been—into him.

He could feel Dooku’s passion. For civilization, for righteousness, for swift justice. And for him. _For Qui-Gon Jinn_. For the scrawny Padawan he had been and the noble Jedi Master he had become. Secret desire, buried beneath, so far down that Dooku had forgotten its existence. Animal lust had flowered over years into an abiding spiritual love that could be acknowledged but never indulged, no, never indulged. But here, in this quiet, secluded forest clearing…that old, hidden need, transparent, desperate, with nothing to restrain it...!

Nothing to restrain _them_.

There was no memory of the beginning afterwards. Only of the moment. And in this moment, they were kissing, Dooku and Qui-Gon, and the fronts of their trousers were being opened with reverence, like ornately wrapped gifts given to celebrate an Alderaanian Naming Day.

The only erect penis Qui-Gon had ever seen before was his own, and the sight of it had, in the years since his elevation to Mastery, become a rare occurrence. He wasn’t certain how to proceed. Nevertheless, he was entranced by Dooku’s erection—and especially by the elegantly tapered glans, fully unhooded and exposed to the cool evening air. It was purple, swollen, and glistening with need—need for Qui-Gon—and that realization alone was practically enough to make Qui-Gon explode in orgasm.

Dooku was also looking down at Qui-Gon, at the pink tip that only just peeked out from the crinkled opening of his foreskin even when he was fully erect, and groaned with desire. His hips thrust forward reflexively, and their erections brushed against each other, sending convulsive shudders through both of their bodies. Even that tiniest of touches was electric. A bead of clear fluid welled up from the tip of Dooku’s penis, like a tear of grief or joy, and began to roll down that naked, vulnerable glans.

It was a poignant reminder that his former Master had only ever been Human—a fragile, imperfect mortal like any other in the galaxy who, at times, needed protection. Qui-Gon’s protection. The realization made his heart ache with a sweet, piercing pain.

Guided purely by instinct, Qui-Gon reached down and brought the tips of their penises together, provoking a little shiver and moan from Dooku, and guided Dooku inside his own foreskin. The delicate, veined flesh stretched deliciously to engulf them both in warm, slick softness. Qui-Gon threw his head back and moaned.

“Oh, so beautiful,” Dooku murmured. He traced one delicate finger from the base of Qui-Gon’s penis in a straight line along their joined length to the base of his own, and when his eyes lifted, his pupils were dilated, and there was only ardor in their black depths, not a trace of the dark side. “I could never have imagined. It’s like we’ve become one.”

“We _are_ becoming one, Master,” Qui-Gon averred, panting with arousal.

“Yes.”

Then Dooku laid his hand over Qui-Gon’s, and together, they began to stroke back and forth, careful to maintain their joining. Qui-Gon’s foreskin was ample enough, however, that the tips slid back and forth over each other freely, and the warm fluid they were both leaking only intensified the sensations. Qui-Gon made a point of bumping against the frenulum on the underside of Dooku’s penis, and Dooku reciprocated by repeatedly pushing himself deep enough to catch on Qui-Gon’s coronal ridge. It was perfect; never had they known such intimacy. As the speed of their mutual stroking increased and their hips began to jerk spasmodically, they wrapped their free hands around each other, each grasping the other by the back of the neck, and began to kiss again, tongues intertwined, impatient and wanton.

Dooku came first with a low cry that broke their kiss. He buried his face into Qui-Gon’s shoulder and held on tightly as his penis throbbed rhythmically in time with each long, powerful pulse of semen. The feel of that wet heat filling him up was enough to throw Qui-Gon over the edge mere seconds later. His scrotum pulled up tight against the base of his penis, and he began to orgasm, howling skyward as his ejaculate mixed with Dooku’s…

…and with a blinding white starburst behind his eyes, the very essence of everything that was Qui-Gon combined with Dooku as well.

Bound together, unbreakable, in light and in darkness. Two embryonic beings reborn as one combined through the majesty of the Living Force. They hardly noticed as their spent penises fell away from each other, fluid dripping in viscous strings down into the moist soil of the forest moon.

Dooku understood the full implications of what had been done immediately. As he wiped the sweat and tears from Qui-Gon’s face, he whispered, voice filled with wonder, “You’ve anchored me to your light.”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon murmured, caressing Dooku’s precious face in turn. “As long as I live, you will always have a way back home.”

For the first time since their reunion on the Endor moon, Dooku wept. “The seed of my darkness has been planted in you. As long as I live, it will never be uprooted. Oh, my Qui-Gon—forgive me! Your light has been diminished. You have been rendered impure.”

“I don’t care. I love you.” Qui-Gon knew his mind, and he had no regrets. None whatsoever.

“And I you,” Dooku replied. Their foreheads touched. The last of the day’s light was fading, and in the shadows of the forest, they breathed the same humid air.

As night fell, they nestled against the trunk of the halspren tree, wrapped in a mutual embrace more intimate than mere lovemaking, and surrendered to dreams.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon receives a vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More sexual content (R-rated or thereabouts).

The music awakened him. Flutes and drums and singing and laughter— _Human_ laughter—all from the direction of the Ewok village. It sounded like they were celebrating.

Sheer panic overtook Qui-Gon. No, surely not—! Surely not so soon after negotiating peace between the settlers and the forest moon’s indigenes—! Oh, stars, what could have happened _now_ —?!

But then he realized that he could also hear the happy chatter and chirps of the Ewoks. So whatever was going on back at the village wasn’t the result of renewed hostilities. Thank the Force. Deliberately, Qui-Gon slowed his breathing and emptied his thoughts, waiting for that dizzying rush of adrenaline to pass fully out of his body’s system.

Eventually, his heart rate slowed, and he felt calm once more. It was beautiful, warm night, and the clear sky was a milky wash of starlight. The heady fragrance of night-blooming flowers perfumed the air, and nocturnal creatures courted in a humming, discordant chorus. Dooku continued his slumber uninterrupted, cradled against Qui-Gon’s own body on one side and the base of the trunk of the chimeric halspren tree on the other. From the tiny piece of Dooku which now dwelt deep within him, he knew that Dooku’s repose was a peaceful one.

Qui-Gon was therefore loath to wake him; the dark side had sapped him of so much of his strength. Yet he could not resist nuzzling the coarse bristles of Dooku’s beard and pressing a tender kiss to the corner of his lips. Dooku seemed to smile at the touch and murmur something unintelligible, but it wasn’t enough stimulation to properly wake him.

They would have all the time in the world together to discover and delight in the myriad pleasures of the body…yet even the prospect of those not inconsiderable diversions paled in comparison to the prospect of exploring the nature of their new spiritual bond itself. He’d intuited the possibility of its forging in their moment of most dire need—the forest, the trees, the settlers, the Ewoks, and their complex connections of life here on the Endor moon to all other life throughout the galaxy had been his teachers—but he did not pretend to comprehend the full implications of what had happened between him and Dooku. These he would have to learn. Study, meditation, or the hidden wisdom of long-forgotten elders? Whatever it took, Qui-Gon was up to the challenge.

And something was telling him that the next step in his learning lay just beyond this clearing. Yes, there was _something_ out there…a faint, bluish light…? Carefully, Qui-Gon removed his outer cloak and wrapped it around Dooku before rising to his feet.

Dooku did not stir. He would be safe. There was nothing to fear.

Curious, Qui-Gon walked in the direction of the light. At first, he thought it was coming from the Ewok village proper, but no, it was closer than that—

And then, perched on the mossy trunk of a fallen evergreen, he saw the apparition. It was Human-shaped and sported the generic roughspun robes favored by Humans on a thousand different systems. It looked to be male, broad-shouldered and vigorous, with a boyish, clean-shaven face and a mop of unruly curls. It wore a pensive expression, almost sad, and it appeared to be looking up into the treetops, watching the Ewok village from afar. Although its bluish light did little to illuminate the gloom of the forest around it, in the Force the apparition shone with the blinding brightness of a fusion torch.

No, not a fusion torch. A neutron star. _This was a being of pure energy._

Qui-Gon marveled and wondered if he should announce himself or not. The apparition did not seem to be aware of his presence.

But before he could make a decision, a second ghostly apparition stepped out from between two trees and approached the first. This second apparition was also Human and clothed in similar, modest dress. But it appeared significantly older than the first; its face was deeply lined with age, and its beard was fuller than the wispy hair remaining on its head. The second apparition opened its mouth to speak, but Qui-Gon could not hear the words. The first apparition did, though, for it turned to face the second apparition and stood, shaking its head.

The second apparition spoke again, inaudible, and smiled warmly, the outer edges of its eyes crinkling.

“Obi-Wan—?!” Qui-Gon actually gasped aloud. He’d know that sweet, impish smile anywhere. But it wasn’t possible! Obi-Wan was safe at home at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, enjoying—or perhaps, more to the truth, _not_ enjoying—the mandatory flight practicum. And he was not an old man; he was hardly more than a youngling…

Somehow, though, Qui-Gon knew that this apparition was, in fact, Obi-Wan Kenobi, his recently acquired Padawan. The particular energy of its—his—presence in the Force, in spite of the sheer, star-bright _power_ of it, was unmistakable. But why hadn’t he reacted when Qui-Gon had called his name…? And there was something else, something _more_ …

The entirety of this elderly Obi-Wan’s focus appeared to center on the first apparition, which, when standing face to face, so close that the hems of their robes practically touched, was over a full head and shoulders taller than Obi-Wan himself. With the strangest sense of inevitability, Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan reached up to brush a stray lock of hair out of the first apparition’s eyes and the first apparition seized hold of Obi-Wan, pulled him into a passionate embrace, and began to kiss him. Obi-Wan reciprocated enthusiastically, mouth opening and eyes shutting, and twined his limbs around the first apparition as it lowered him tenderly down onto the forest floor.

They were going to make love. Qui-Gon knew he shouldn’t watch, shouldn’t spy on what ought to be a tender, private moment between two beings who…yes, they must have done this before, obvious how they moved in easy unison, how Obi-Wan parted his legs in welcome and laid himself open for penetration with the mischievous smile of Qui-Gon’s dear Padawan…

No, he shouldn’t watch! Nevertheless…

There was nothing illicit, nothing lurid, nothing ashamed. Nothing dark. Only light—and an all-encompassing, unconditional _love._ In fact, there was no distinction between the lovers whatsoever as individuals; even as they thrust and rocked and undulated and clutched at each other and resumed kissing, they were a single being through the eyes of the Force. This was luminous, perfect union.

Perfect bliss.

Unbelievable, if Qui-Gon were not an eye-witness. Virtually unimaginable, even to a Jedi Master.

And when he jolted awake to an excruciating orgasm rocketing along his nerve endings, Qui-Gon knew that the Force had granted him a blessed vision of a future of joy, of peace for the galaxy. Somehow, someday, it would be his Padawan’s destiny to realize the potential of this vision—for he, Qui-Gon, would be the one to show him the way forward. Seemed he’d made the right decision in binding himself to Dooku after all, and what they’d accomplished on the forest moon would play an important role as well. But there was still much work to be done, much for him to understand.

Tomorrow. He’d concern himself with all that tomorrow. Dawn had not yet arrived, and Dooku slept cuddled beside him. Someday, this place would become the galaxy’s sanctuary, but at this very moment, it was their own little private sanctuary too.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Departures and returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter. Hooray!!

“The Council cannot know. It must be kept secret from everyone.”

“I understand, Master,” Qui-Gon murmured. “It’s just that I thought perhaps Master Yoda might be able to—”

“No, Qui-Gon. Especially not Master Yoda!”

Qui-Gon sighed softly, but he lowered his head in acquiescence.

Dooku rested a hand on Qui-Gon’s shoulder, consoling. “Ah, forgive me; I do not mean to be short with you. But you flirt with heresy, not to mention open defiance of the Code, in this single-minded pursuit of these new esoteric areas of inquiry. Only a Sith would seek life after death.”

“And yet!” Qui-Qon couldn’t resist protesting. “They were not Sith. There was nothing of the dark side in what I saw.”

Now it was Dooku’s turn to sigh with evident, albeit fond, exasperation. They’d already had this same discussion several times since their return from the forest moon of Endor one standard week ago, and Qui-Gon was even more confused, to be honest, than he had been when he’d awoken under that halspren tree shortly before dawn. He’d come to realize that conventional study and meditation would not be sufficient to grant him the wisdom required to fully interpret his Force vision.

If, in fact, that was what it was. Dooku had readily admitted to being skeptical in the beginning. Nevertheless, he’d seemed happy to humor Qui-Gon and his latest pet project when Qui-Gon had not relented…and he’d done a whole lot more than merely humor Qui-Gon in the seclusion of their tower rooms. They’d tried everything in bed they could think of—and quite a few things that had simply come to them at the spur of the moment, some of which didn’t involve any beds whatsoever. Last night, Dooku had taken him so long and hard that it required distinct effort simply to walk the airy, sunlit halls of the Jedi Temple with proper Jedi decorum this morning. He’d be feeling the sweet ache of that rough, pounding lovemaking for days—and he was grateful for it.

Because Dooku had been assigned a new mission. He was due to depart within the hour, and it might be months before their paths crossed again.

“Very well. I trust in your instincts, beloved.” Qui-Gon’s eyes flicked toward Dooku’s face momentarily, surprised to be called “beloved” where someone might hear. The bond forged between them also had to be kept secret from everyone. Fortunately, no one else seemed to be taking any notice of their conversation, and to anyone who did bother to notice, they were just two Jedi Masters heading toward the docking bay. “Besides, we should not quarrel. Especially not when we are about to make our farewells.”

They’d arrived. Dooku’s shuttle to Coruscant Central Spaceport was already waiting.

Too soon.

Qui-Gon tugged Dooku out of sight behind a large cargo loader. “There are no farewells for us anymore, Master. A part of you resides safely within me,” he whispered.

“Yes,” Dooku agreed, “and you shall be the light of my heart to guide me home when I’m lost.”

“Always.”

“I won’t be gone forever, you know.”

“I know.”

When they kissed, that radiant energy anchoring them to each other pulled tight and began to vibrate like a plucked lyraharp string. They were a part of each other, tangled, enmeshed. For as long as they lived, this connection could not be unraveled…and Qui-Gon would never want it to be.

***

Mere minutes after Dooku’s shuttle had departed, a transport full of Padawans finished with their final flight practicum session docked and began to unload its youthful sentient cargo. Naturally, Obi-Wan was among them, and Qui-Gon called him over.

“Master Qui-Gon.” Obi-Wan greeted him with a proper, picture perfect bow. This was their first meeting since Qui-Gon’s abrupt overnight departure to the forest moon, and Qui-Gon thought he detected a new note of coolness, of distance, to Obi-Wan’s voice. So, he had indeed been disappointed that he’d not been permitted to accompany his Master on his mission.

“I trust that you have passed your flight practicum with flying colors, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said. His duty to his apprentice was among his most important, and it would be remiss of him not to inquire.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I don’t think I’m meant for flying, Master. If Humans were meant to fly, nature would have given us wings.”

Qui-Gon chuckled. Obi-Wan certainly did have a peculiar brand of cynical humor, but Qui-Gon knew the answer he’d provided meant that Obi-Wan had probably proven himself a better pilot than the majority of his peers.

“Maybe nature gave us big brains so that we could invent speeders and skyhoppers and starships,” Qui-Gon suggested, gently teasing.

Obi-Wan had no good reply to that. At least he had the grace not to pout.

In the hidden recesses of his mind, Qui-Gon again saw Obi-Wan as an old man, limned in blue light and prostrate in his pleasure, writhing and arching so strongly that he’d lifted the body covering his high up into the air—

“I suppose you want to hear about what happened on the Endor moon,” Qui-Gon remarked.

“Oh! Yes, Master, please!” Obi-Wan’s expression brightened considerably.

“Well, firstly, understand that there are certain portions of the mission report which must be held confidential and may not be disclosed—”

“I know, I know,” Obi-Wan interrupted hurriedly, “but the mission must have been a success in the end, right? I heard on the HoloNet that the Intergalactic Indigenes Fund is declaring victory, and that the Forestry Stewardship Council has abandoned its logging interests there. A bill has been introduced to Senate that will set the entirety of the moon aside in perpetuity as a nature preserve, and it’s expected to pass. They’re already calling it the ‘Sanctuary Moon.’ ”

“All correct, my young apprentice.” Qui-Gon agreed. “You have done your research well. But of course the truth of things cannot be known solely from HoloNews reports and Senate hearings. The galaxy is a far, far more complicated place, and so are the beings who inhabit it.”

Qui-Gon smiled down at Obi-Wan, who was nodding vigorously.

“Come then, Obi-Wan, shall we stroll the Gardens while we talk? The Temple has just received a remarkable donation from the Finis Valorum Xenobotanical Institute, and I thought you might like to view it with me. It’s a cutting from unique specimen of Endorian halspren tree, and I am told it will take approximately ten years to grow to maturity…”

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the characters in this story also appear in “[That Sleep of Death, What Dreams May Come](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7731400),” “[What Dwells in Us](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10237940),” and the rest of the stories in the [From Undiscovered Countries Vignettes Collection](http://archiveofourown.org/series/563048). However, your basic understanding and enjoyment (or lack thereof) of any of these stories shouldn’t be affected by not having read any of the others. For convenience, I have created an AO3 collection for all of these loosely interconnected stories [here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Star_Wars_Undiscovered_Countries).


End file.
